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V 



The King of the Golden River 



The text of this edition of " The King 
of the Golden River'' agrees with 
that of the standard English edition, 
which is the fifth London edition, as 
corrected by the author, and issued by 
the original publishers of the story, 
Smith, Elder & Company, London, i86j. 




JOHN RUSKIN 

One of the foremost writers and critics of the Eighteenth Century, who became 

a great preacher of righteousness, though not in pulpits; and who 

wrote volumes of soul-stirring poetry, though not in verse. 




6old(n Classics 



THE KING OF THE 

GOLDEN RIVER 

OR 

THE BLACK BROTHERS 

A LEGEND OF STIRIA 

BY 
JOHN RUSKIN 



CHICAGO NEW YORK 

RAND McNALLY & COMPANY 

PUBLISHERS 





Copyright, igog, 
By Rand McNally & Co, 



f^^V 



v^^ 



A 






CCU.253754. 




The acknowledged classics of English literature 
are many, and the number of those works which are, 
worthy of being ranked among the classics grows 
from year to year. Whosoever would know the best 
that has been written in our tongue, can scarcely 
begin his acquaintance too soon in his own life after he 
has learned to read. Nor can he be too careful about 
the new members he admits to the circle of his book 
friendships. 

The gardener may have prepared his ground with 
scrupulous and rigid care, but unless he follows his 
planting with unremitting vigilance, the labor of 
preparation ^^i\\ have been in vain. A few days of 
neglect and the garden will be smothered in weeds. 
Profitable knowledge of the best in our literature must 
be sought with like vigilance and patience. The taste 
for it should be implanted early and when estabhshed 
must be cultivated and maintained with constancy. 
It should also be intelligently adapted to increasing 
years and widening experience. 

The first few books in the Golden Classics have 
been chosen as the foundation for a permanent and more 
extended series. They have been taken from the writ- 
ings of acknowledged Masters of the English tongue. 
Among these immortals are Irving, Dickens, Ruskin, 
Longfellow, and Goldsmith ; no names in Enghsh lit- 
erature are more beloved ai)d honored. 

More vital even than their great worth as literature, 
these selections have, in eminent degree, that wonder- 
7 



8 INTRODUCTION TO THE SERIES 

ful quality of the works of human genius which 
stimulates the imagination of the reader, refines his 
taste, broadens and deepens his love of letters, inspires 
him with generous sympathy for all that is uplifting, 
and quickens his aversion toward all that is trashy 
or in any way unworthy. 

It is true in literature as it is in money that the 
truest capacity to detect the counterfeit is intimate, 
familiar knowledge of the genuine. It is not enough 
merely to know that there are works in our literature 
which have proven their immortal, classic quality, but 
equally as important to be able to name some or all 
of them. It is not enough even to be able to say that 
one has read them. They must be, so to speak, men- 
tally absorbed. They must sink deep into and be 
assimilated by our intellectual life, and so become 
a part of our being. By just so much as any genera- 
tion accomphshes this, and makes itself affectionately 
famihar with all that is possible of that literature which 
has crystaUized into immortahty ; by just so much it has 
raised the plane on which the next generation must 
begin its career, and thus has contributed toward the 
uplifting evolution of humanity. 

These Golden Classics are meant to put the means 
of rising to this plane within easy reach; opening a 
path which every aspiring reader may follow in full 
confidence that he will not be led astray. 



ADVERTISEMENT 

{Taken from the first edition, 1856) 

THE Publishers think it due to the Author of 
this Fairy Tale to state the circumstances 
under which it appears. 



THE King of the Golden River was written 
in 1 84 1, at the request of a very young lady, 
and solely for her amusement, without any idea 
of publication. It has since remained in the 
possession of a friend, to whose suggestion, and 
the passive assent of the Author, the Publishers 
are indebted for the opportunity of printing it. 



[9] 




^Gluck sat down by the fire ' 



THE KING OF THE GOLDEN RIVER 

OR, 

THE BLACK BROTHERS 



CHAPTER I. 

HOW THE AGRICULTURAL SYSTEM OF THE BLACK 

BROTHERS WAS INTERFERED WITH BY 

SOUTH-WEST WIND, ESQUIRE. 

IN a secluded and mountainous part of Stiria 
there was, in old time, a valley of the most 
surprising and luxuriant fertility. It was sur- lo 
rounded, on all sides, by steep and rocky moun- 
tains, rising into peaks,which were always covered 
with snow, and from which a number of torrents 
descended in constant cataracts. One of these 
fell westward, over the face of a crag so high, is 
that, when the sun had set to everything else, and 
all below was darkness, his beams still shone full 
upon this waterfall, so that it looked like a shower 
of gold. It was, therefore, called by the people 
of the neighborhood, the Golden River. It was 20 
strange that none of these streams fell into the 
valley itself. They all descended on the other 



7^ The King of the Golden River 

side of the mountains, and wound away through 
broad plains and by populous cities. But the 

25 clouds were drawn so constantly to the snowy 
hills, and rested so softly in the circular hollow, 
that in time of drought and heat, when all the 
country round was burnt up, there was still rain 
in the little valley ; and its crops were so heavy, 

30 and its hay so high, and its apples so red, and its 
grapes so blue, and its wine so rich, and its honey 
so sweet, that it was a marvel to every one who 
beheld it, and was commonly called the Treasure 
Valley. 

35 The whole of this little valley belonged to 
three brothers, called Schwartz, Hans, and Gluck. 
Schwartz and Hans, the two elder brothers, were 
very ugly men, with overhanging eyebrows and 
small dull eyes, which were always half shut, so 

40 that you couldn't see into them, and always fancied 
they saw very far into you. They lived by farm- 
ing the Treasure Valley, and very good farmers 
they were. They killed everything that did not 
pay for its eating. They shot the blackbirds 

45 because they pecked the fruit; and killed the 
hedgehogs, lest they should suck the cows ; they 
poisoned the crickets for eating the crumbs in 
the kitchen; and smothered the cicadas, which 
used to sing all summer in the lime trees. They 

50 worked their servants without any wages, till they 
would not work any more, and then quarreled 
with them, and turned them out of doors without 
paying them. It would have been very odd, if 



Or, The Black Brothers 75 

with such a farm, and such a system of farming, 
they hadn't got very rich ; and very rich they 55 
did get. They generally contrived to keep their 
corn by them till it was very dear, and then sell 
it for twice its value ; they had heaps of gold 
lying about on their floors, yet it was never 
known that they had given so much as a penny eo 
or a crust in charity; they never went to mass; 
grumbled perpetually at paying tithes , and were, 
in a word, of so cruel and grinding a temper, as 
to receive from all those with whom they had any 
dealings, the nickname of the ''Black Brothers." es 

The youngest brother, Gluck, was as com- 
pletely opposed, in both appearance and character, 
to his seniors as could possibly be imagined or 
desired. He was not above twelve years old, fair, 
blue-eyed, and kind in temper to every living to 
thing. He did not, of course, agree particularly 
well with his brothers, or rather, they did not 
agree with hi7n. He was usually appointed to 
the honorable office of turnspit, when there was 
anything to roast, which was not often; for, to 75 
do the brothers justice, they were hardly less 
sparing upon themselves than upon other people. 
At other times he used to clean the shoes, floors, 
and sometimes the plates, occasionally getting 
what was left on them, by way of encouragement, so 
and a wholesome quantity of dry blows, by way 
of education. 

Things went on in this manner for a long time. 
At last came a very wet summer, and everything 



i6 The King of the Golden River 

65 went wrong in the country around. The hay had 
hardly been got in, when the haystacks were 
floated bodily down to the sea by an inundation ; 
the vines were cut to pieces with the hail; the 
corn was all killed by a black blight ; only in 
90 the Treasure Valley, as usual, all was safe. As it 
had rain when there was rain nowhere else, so it 
had sun when there was sun nowhere else. 
Everybody came to buy corn at the farm, and 
went away pouring maledictions on the Black 
95 Brothers. They asked what they liked, and got it, 
except from the poor people, who could only beg, 
and several of whom were starved at their very 
door, without the slightest regard or notice. 

It was drawing towards winter, and very cold 

100 weather, when one day the two elder brothers 

had gone out, with their usual warning to little 

Gluck, who was left to mind the roast, that he was 

to let nobody in, and give nothing out. Gluck 

sat down quite close to the fire, for it was rain- 

105 ing very hard, and the kitchen walls were by no 

means dry or comfortable looking. He turned 

and turned, and the roast got nice and brown. 

"What a pity," thought Gluck, '' my brothers never 

ask anybody to dinner. I'm sure, when they've 

no got such a nice piece of mutton as this, and nobody 

else has got so much as a piece of dry bread, it 

would do their hearts good to have somebody to 

eat it with them." 

Just as he spoke, there came a double knock 
115 at the house door, yet heavy and dull, as though 



Or, The Black Brothers ly 

the knocker had been tied up — more like a puff 
than a knock. 

** It must be the wind," said Gluck ; ** nobody 
else would venture to knock double knocks at our 
door." 130 

No; it wasn't the wind; there it came again 
very hard, and what was particularly astounding, 
the knocker seemed to be in a hurry, and not to 
be in the least afraid of the consequences. Gluck 
went to the window, opened it, and put his head 125 
out to see who it was. 

It was the most extraordinary looking little 
gentleman he had ever seen in his life. He had a 
very large nose, slightly brass-colored ; his cheeks 
were very round, and very red, and might haveiso 
warranted a supposition that he had been blow- 
ing a refractory fire for the last eight-and-forty 
hours; his eyes twinkled merrily through long 
silky eyelashes, his mustaches curled twice round 
like a corkscrew on each side of his mouth, and iss 
his hair, of a curious mixed pepper-and-salt color, 
descended far over his shoulders. He was about 
four-feet-six in height, and wore a conical pointed 
cap of nearly the same altitude, decorated with a 
black feather some three feet long. His doublet 140 
was prolonged behind into something resembling 
a violent exaggeration of what is now termed a 
''swallow tail," but was much obscured by the 
swelling folds of an enormous black, glossy-look- 
ing cloak, which must have been very much too 145 
long in calm weather, as the wind, whistling 



i8 The King of the Golden River 

round the old house, carried it clear out from the 
wearer's shoulders to about four times his own 
length. 

150 Gluck was so perfectly paralyzed by the singu- 
lar appearance of his visitor, that he remained 
fixed without uttering a word, until the old gen- 
tleman, having performed another, and a more 
energetic concerto on the knocker, turned round 

155 to look after his fly-away cloak. In so doing he 
caught sight of Gluck's little yellow head jammed 
in the window, with its mouth and eyes very 
wide open indeed. 

"■ Hollo ! " said the little gentleman, "• that's not 

160 the way to answer the door : I'm wet, let me in ! " 

To do the little gentleman justice, he was wet. 

His feather hung down between his legs like a 

beaten puppy's tail, dripping like an umbrella; 

and from the ends of his mustaches the water 

165 was running into his waistcoat pockets, and out 
again like a mill stream. 

''I beg pardon, sir," said Gluck, "I'm very 
sorry, but I really can't." 

''Can't what?" said the old gentleman. 

no "I can't let you in, sir, — I can't indeed; my 
brothers would beat me to death, sir, if I thought 
of such a thing. What do you want, sir?" 

''Want?" said the old gentleman, petulantly. 
" I want fire, and shelter ; and there's your great 

175 fire there blazing, crackling, and dancing on the 
walls, with nobody to feel it. Let me in, I say ; I 
only want to warm myself." 



Or, The Black Brothers ig 

Gluck had had his head, by this time, so long 
out of the window, that he began to feel it was 
really unpleasantly cold, and when he turned, and iso 
saw the beautiful fire rustling and roaring, and 
throwing long bright tongues up the chimney, as 
if it were licking its chops at the savory smell of 
the leg of mutton, his heart melted within him 
that it should be burning away for nothing. '' He iss 
does look very wet," said little Gluck ; *' 111 just 
let him in for a quarter of an hour." Round he 
went to the door, and opened it, and as the little 
gentleman walked in, there came a gust of wind 
through the house, that made the old chimneys i9o 
totter. 

"That's a good boy," said the little gentle- 
man. " Never mind your brothers. I'll talk to 
them." 

*' Pray, sir, don't do any such thing," said Gluck. 195 
V I can't let you stay till they come ; they'd be the 
death of me." 

'' Dear me," said the old gentleman, '' I'm very 
sorry to hear that. How long may I stay ? " 

"Only till the mutton's done, sir," replied aoo 
Gluck, " and it's very brown." 

Then the old gentleman walked into the 
kitchen, and sat himself down on the hob, with 
the top of his cap accommodated up the chimney, 
for it was a great deal too high for the roof. 205 

"You'll soon dry there, sir," said Gluck, and 
sat down again to turn the mutton. But the old 
gentleman did not dry there, but went on drip, 



20 The King of the Golden River 

drip, dripping among the cinders, and the fire 
210 fizzed and sputtered, and began to look very black, 
and uncomfortable : never was such a cloak ; every 
fold in it ran like a gutter. 

'* I beg pardon, sir," said Gluck at length, after 
watching the water spreading in long, quicksilver- 
215 like streams over the floor for a quarter of an 
hour ; ** mayn't I take your cloak ? " 

" No, thank you," said the old gentleman. 

"■ Your cap, sir ? " 

'' I am all right, thank you," said the old gentle- 
220 man rather gruffly. 

**But — sir — I'm very sorry," said Gluck hesi- 
tatingly ; " but — really, sir — you're — putting 
the fire out." 

''It'll take longer to do the mutton, then," re- 
225 plied his visitor dryly. 

Gluck was very much puzzled by the behavior 
of his guest; it was such a strange mixture of 
coolness and humility. He turned away at the 
string meditatively for another five minutes. 
230 "That mutton looks very nice," said the old 
gentleman at length. " Can't you give me a little 
bit?" 

"■ Impossible, sir," said Gluck. 

'' I'm very hungry," continued the old gentle- 
235 man ; '' I've had nothing to eat yesterday, nor to- 
day. They surely couldn't miss a bit from the 
knuckle ! " 

He spoke in so very melancholy a tone, that 
it quite melted Gluck's heart. '' They promised 




»♦ What did you keep me waiting in the rain for ? " 



22 The King of the Golden River 

240 me one slice to-day, sir," said he ; "I can give you 
that, but not a bit more." 

'' That's a good boy," said the old gentleman 
again. 

Then Gluck warmed a plate, and sharpened a 

245 knife. ''I don't care if I do get beaten for it," 
thought he. Just as he had cut a large slice out 
of the mutton, there came a tremendous rap at the 
door. The old gentleman jumped off the hob, as 
if it had suddenly become inconveniently warm. 

250 Gluck fitted the slice into the mutton again, with 
desperate efforts at exactitude, and ran to open 
the door. 

"What did you keep us waiting in the rain 
for?" said Schwartz, as he walked in, throwing 

255 his umbrella in Gluck's face. *' Ay! what for, in- 
deed, you little vagabond?" said Hans, admin- 
istering an educational box on the ear, as he 
followed his brother into the kitchen. 

''Bless my soul!" said Schwartz when he 

260 opened the door. 

" Amen," said the little gentleman, who had 
taken his cap off and was standing in the middle 
of the kitchen, bowing with the utmost possible 
velocity. 

265 ** Who's that ? " said Schwartz, catching up a 
rolling-pin, and turning to Gluck with a fierce 
frown. 

** I don't know, indeed, brother," said Gluck in 
great terror. 

270 '<■ How did he get in ? " roared Schwartz. 



Or, The Black Brothers 2j 

*' My dear brother," said Gluck, deprecatingly, 
" he was so very wet ! " 

The rolling-pin was descending on Gluck's 
head; but, at the instant, the old gentleman inter- 
posed his conical cap, on which it crashed with a 275 
shock that shook the water out of it all over the 
room. What was very odd, the rolling-pin no 
sooner touched the cap, than it flew out of 
Schwartz's hand, spinning like a straw in a high 
wind, and fell into the corner at the farther end 280 
of the room. 

''Who are you, sir?" demanded Schwartz, 
turning upon him. 

'' What's your business ? " snarled Hans. 

"I'm a poor old man, sir," the little gentle- 285 
man began very modestly, " and I saw your fire 
through the window, and begged shelter for a 
quarter of an hour." 

'' Have the goodness to walk out again, then," 
said Schwartz. " We've quite enough water in 290 
our kitchen, without making it a drying house." 

'' It is a cold day to turn an old man out in, sir ; 
look at my gray hairs." They hung down to his 
shoulders, as I told you before. 

'' Ay! " said Hans, '' there are enough of them 295 
to keep you warm. Walk ! " 

'' I'm very, very hungry, sir ; couldn't you spare 
me a bit of bread before I go? " 

" Bread, indeed ! " said Schwartz , " do you sup- 
pose we've nothing to do with our bread but to soo 
give it to such red-nosed fellows as you?" 



24^ The King of the Golden River 

" Why don't you sell your feather? " said Hans, 
sneeringly. ** Out with you ! " 

" A little bit," said the old gentleman. 

305 '' Be off ! " said Schwartz. 
** Pray, gentlemen — " 

*' Off, and be hanged ! " cried Hans, seizing him 
by the collar. But he had no sooner touched the 
old gentleman's collar, than away he went after 

310 the rolling-pin, spinning round and round, till 
he fell into the corner on the top of it. Then 
Schwartz was very angry, and ran at the old 
gentleman to turn him out ; but he also had hardly 
touched him, when away he went after Hans and 

315 the rolling-pin, and hit his head against the wall 
as he tumbled into the corner. And so there they 
lay, all three. 

Then the old gentleman spun himself round 
with velocity in the opposite direction ; continued 

320 to spin until his long cloak was all wound neatly 
about him; clapped his cap on his head, very 
much on one side (for it could not stand upright 
without going through the ceiling), gave an ad- 
ditional twist to his corkscrew mustaches, and 

325 replied with perfect coolness : " Gentlemen, I wish 
you a very good morning. At twelve o'clock to- 
night I'll call again ; after such a refusal of hospi- 
tality as I have just experienced, you will not be 
surprised if that visit is the last I ever pay you." 

330 **If ever I catch you here again," muttered 
Schwartz, coming, half frightened, out of the cor- 
ner — but, before he could finish his sentence, the 



Or, The Black Brothers 25 

old gentleman had shut the house door behind 
him with a great bang : and there drove past the 
window, at the same instant, a wreath of ragged 335 
cloud, that whirled and rolled away down the 
valley in all manner of shapes; turning over and 
over in the air, and melting away at last in a 
gush of rain. 

'' A very pretty business, indeed, Mr. Gluck ! " 340 
said Schwartz. '' Dish the mutton, sir. If ever 
I catch you at such a trick again — bless me, why 
the mutton's been cut ! " 

"You promised me one slice, brother, you 
know," said Gluck. 345 

" Oh ! and you were cutting it hot, I suppose, 
and going to catch all the gravy. It'll be long 
before I promise you such a thing again. Leave 
the room, sir; and have the kindness to wait in 
the coal-cellar till I call you." 350 

Gluck left the room melancholy enough. The 
brothers ate as much mutton as they could, 
locked the rest in the cupboard, and proceeded 
to get very drunk after dinner. 

Such a night as it was! Howling wind, and 355 
rushing rain, without intermission. The brothers 
had just sense enough left to put up all the shut- 
ters, and double bar the door, before they went 
to bed. They usually slept in the same room. 
As the clock struck twelve, they were bothseo 
awakened by a tremendous crash. Their door 
burst open with a violence that shook the house 
from top to bottom. 



26 The King of the Golden River 

"What's that?" cried Schwartz, starting up 
365 in his bed. 

'' Only I," said the little gentleman. 

The two brothers sat up on their bolster, and 
stared into the darkness. The room was full of 
water, and by a misty moonbeam, which found 
370 its way through a hole in the shutter, they could 
see in the midst of it an enormous foam globe, 
spinning round, and bobbing up and down like 
a cork, on which, as on a most luxurious cushion, 
reclined the little old gentleman, cap and all. 
375 There was plenty of room for it now, for the roof 
was off. 

'' Sorry to incommode you," said their visitor, 
ironically. ''I'm afraid your beds are dampish; 
perhaps you had better go to your brother's room: 
380 I've left the ceiling on, there." 

They required no second admonition, but 
rushed into Gluck's room, wet through, and in an 
agony of terror. 

'' You'll find my card on the kitchen table," 
385 the old gentleman called after them. '' Remem- 
ber, the last visit." 

"■ Pray Heaven it may ! " said Schwartz, shud- 
dering. And the foam globe disappeared. 

Dawn came at last, and the two brothers looked 
390 out of Gluck's little window in the morning. The 
Treasure Valley was one mass of ruin and deso- 
lation. The inundation had swept away trees, 
crops, and cattle, and left in their stead a waste 
of red sand, and gray mud. The two brothers 




The two brothers sat up on their bolster " 



28 



The King of the Golden River 



395 crept shivering and horror-struck into the kitchen. 
The water had gutted the whole first floor ; corn, 
money, almost every movable thing had been 
swept away, and there was left only a small white 
card on the kitchen table. On it, in large, breezy, 

400 long-legged letters, were engraved the words : — 




CHAPTER II. 

OF THE PROCEEDINGS OF THE THREE BROTHERS 

AFTER THE VISIT OF SOUTH-WEST WIND, 

ESQUIRE; AND HOW LITTLE GLUCK HAD 

AN INTERVIEW WITH THE KING 

OF THE GOLDEN RIVER. 

SOUTH-WEST WIND, Esquire, was as good 
as his word. After the momentous visit 
above related, he entered the Treasure 410 
Valley no more; and, what was worse, he had 
so much influence with his relations, the West 
Winds in general, and used it so effectually, that 
they all adopted a similar line of conduct. So no 
rain fell in the valley from one year's end to 415 
another. Though everything remained green and 
flourishing in the plains below, the inheritance 
of the Three Brothers was a desert. What had 
once been the richest soil in the kingdom, became 
a shifting heap of red sand; and the brothers, 420 
unable longer to contend with the adverse skies, 
abandoned their valueless patrimony in despair, 
to seek some means of gaining a livelihood 
among the cities and people of the plains. All 
their money was gone, and they had nothing left 425 
but some curious old-fashioned pieces of gold 
plates, the last remnants of their ill-gotten wealth. 

[29] 



JO The King of the Golden River 

" Suppose we turn goldsmiths? " said Schwartz 
to Hans, as they entered the large city. *' It is a 

430 good knave's trade ; we can put a great deal of 
copper into the gold, without any one's finding 
it out." 

The thought was agreed to be a very good one ; 
they hired a furnace, and turned goldsmiths. 

435 But two slight circumstances affected their trade : 
the first, that people did not approve of the cop- 
pered gold; the second, that the two elder brothers, 
whenever they had sold anything, used to leave 
little Gluck to mind the furnace, and go and drink 

440 out the money in the ale-house next door. So 
they melted all their gold, without making money 
enough to buy more, and were at last reduced to 
one large drinking mug, which an uncle of his had 
given to little Gluck, and which he was very fond 

445 of, and would not have parted with for the world; 
though he never drank anything out of it but milk 
and water. The mug was a very odd mug to look 
at. The handle was formed of two wreaths of 
flowing golden hair, so finely spun that it looked 

450 more like silk than metal, and these wreaths 
descended into, and mixed with, a beard and 
whiskers of the same exquisite workmanship, 
which surrounded and decorated a very fierce 
little face, of the reddest gold imaginable, right 

455 in the front of the mug, with a pair of eyes in it 
which seemed to command its whole circum- 
ference. It was impossible to drink out of the 
mug without being subjected to an intense gaze 



Or^ The Black Brothers ji 

out of the side of these eyes ; and Schwartz posi- 
tively averred, that once, after emptying it, full 46o 
of Rhenish, seventeen times, he had seen them 
wink! When it came to the mug's turn to be 
made into spoons, it half broke poor little Gluck's 
heart; but the brothers only laughed at him, 
tossed the mug into the melting-pot, and stag- 465 
gered out to the ale-house : leaving him, as usual, 
to pour the gold into bars, when it was all 
ready. 

When they were gone, Gluck took a farewell 
look at his old friend in the melting-pot. The 470 
flowing hair was all gone ; nothing remained but 
the red nose, and the sparkling eyes, which looked 
more malicious than ever. "And no wonder," 
thought Gluck, ''after being treated in that 
way." He sauntered disconsolately to the win- 475 
dow, and sat himself down to catch the fresh 
evening air, and escape the hot breath of the fur- 
nace. Now this window commanded a direct 
view of the range of mountains, which, as I told 
you before, overhung the Treasure Valley, and48o 
more especially of the peak from which fell the 
Golden River. It was just at the close of the 
day, and when Gluck sat down at the window, he 
saw the rocks of the mountain tops, all crimson 
and purple with the sunset; and there were 485 
bright tongues of fiery cloud burning and quiv- 
ering about them; and the river, brighter than 
all, fell, in a waving column of pure gold, from 
precipice to precipice, with the double arch of 



J2 The King of the Golden River 

490 a broad purple rainbow stretched across it, flush- 
ing and fading alternately in the wreaths of 
spray. 

''Ah!" said Gluck aloud, after he had looked 
at it for a while, ''if that river were really all 

495 gold, what a nice thing it would be." 

"No, it wouldn't, Gluck," said a clear metallic 
voice, close at his ear. 

"Bless me! what's that?" exclaimed Gluck, 
jumping up. There was nobody there. He 

500 looked round the room, and under the table, and 
a great many times behind him, but there was 
certainly nobody there, and he sat down again at 
the window. This time he didn't speak, but 
he couldn't help thinking again that it would 

505 be very convenient if the river were really all 
gold. 

"Not at all, my boy," said the same voice, 
louder than before. 

" Bless me ! " said Gluck again ; " what is that?" 

510 He looked again into all the corners, and cup- 
boards, and then began turning round, and round, 
as fast as he could in the middle of the room, 
thinking there was somebody behind him, when 
the same voice struck again on his ear. It was 

515 singing now very merrily, " Lala-lira-la ; " no 
words, only a soft running effervescent melody, 
something like that of a kettle on the boil. Gluck 
looked out of the window. No, it was certainly in 
the house. Up-stairs, and down-stairs. No, it was 

520 certainly in that very room, coming in quicker 



Or, The Black Brothers jj 

time, and clearer notes, every moment. ''Lala-lira- 
la." All at once it struck Gluck that it sounded 
louder near the furnace. He ran to the opening, 
and looked in ; yes, he saw right, it seemed to be 
coming, not only out of the furnace, but out of 525 
the pot. He uncovered it, and ran back in a great 
fright, for the pot was certainly singing! He 
stood in the farthest corner of the room, with his 
hands up, and his mouth open, for a minute or 
two, when the singing stopped, and the voice be- 530 
came clear, and pronunciative. 

" Hollo ! " said the voice. 

Gluck made no answer. 

"Hollo! Gluck, my boy," said the pot again. 

Gluck summoned all his energies, walked 535 
straight up to the crucible, drew it out of the 
furnace, and looked in. The gold was all melted, 
and its surface as smooth and polished as a river ; 
but instead of reflecting little Gluck's head, as he 
looked in, he saw meeting his glance from be- 540 
neath the gold the red nose and sharp eyes of 
his old friend of the mug, a thousand times redder 
and sharper than ever he had seen them in his 
life. 

"Come, Gluck, my boy," said the voice out of 545 
the pot again, " I'm all right ; pour me out." 

But Gluck was too much astonished to do any- 
thing of the kind. 

"Pour me out, I say," said the voice rather 
gruflly. 550 

Still Gluck couldn't move. 



j^ The King of the Golden River 

''Will you pour me out?" said the voice pas- 
sionately. " I'm too hot." 

By a violent effort, Gluck recovered the use of 

555 his limbs, took hold of the crucible, and sloped it 
so as to pour out the gold. But instead of a liquid 
stream, there came out, first, a pair of pretty little 
yellow legs, then some coat tails, then a pair of 
arms stuck a-kimbo, and, finally, the well-known 

560 head of his friend the mug; all which articles, 
uniting as they rolled out, stood up energetically 
on the floor, in the shape of a little golden dwarf, 
about a foot and a half high. 

" That's right ! ' said the dwarf, stretching out 

565 first his legs and then his arms, and then shaking 
his head up and down, and as far round as it 
would go, for five minutes, without stopping; 
apparently with the view of ascertaining if he 
were quite correctly put together, while Gluck 

570 stood contemplating him in speechless amaze- 
ment. He was dressed in a slashed doublet of 
spun gold, so fine in its texture, that the prismatic 
colors gleamed over it, as if on a surface of mother 
of pearl; and, over this brilliant doublet, his 

575 hair and beard fell full halfway to the ground, in 
waving curls, so exquisitely delicate that Gluck 
could hardly tell where they ended ; they seemed 
to melt into air. The features of the face, how- 
ever, were by no means finished with the same 

580 delicacy ; they were rather coarse, slightly inclin- 
ing to coppery in complexion, and indicative, 
in expression, of a very pertinacious and intract- 




Pray^ sir^ were you my mug? ^'' 



j6 The King of the Golden River 

able disposition in their small proprietor. When 
the dwarf had finished his self-examination, he 

585 turned his small sharp eyes full on Gluck, and 
stared at him deliberately for a minute or two. 
"No, it wouldn't, Gluck, my boy," said the little 
man. 

This was certainly rather an abrupt and uncon- 

59onected mode of commencing conversation. It 
might indeed be supposed to refer to the course 
of Gluck's thoughts, which had first produced the 
dwarf's observations out of the pot ; but whatever 
it referred to, Gluck had no inclination to dispute 

595 the dictum. 

''Wouldn't it, sir?" said Gluck, very mildly 
and submissively indeed. 

*' No," said the dwarf, conclusively. '* No, it 
wouldn't." And with that, the dwarf pulled his 

600 cap hard over his brows, and took two turns, of 
three feet long, up and down the room, lifting his 
legs up very high, and setting them down very 
hard. This pause gave time for Gluck to collect 
his thoughts a little, and, seeing no great reason 

w5to view his diminutive visitor with dread, and 
feeling his curiosity overcome his amazement, 
he ventured on a question of peculiar delicacy. 

"Pray, sir," said Gluck rather hesitatingly, 
" were you my mug ? " 

610 On which the little man turned sharp round, 
walked straight up to Gluck, and drew himself 
up to his full height. "I," said the little man, 
"am the King of the Golden River." Where- 



Or, The Black Brothers 37 

upon lie turned about again, and took two more 
turns, some six feet long, in order to allow time eis 
for the consternation which this announcement 
produced in his auditor to evaporate. After 
which, he again walked up to Gluck and stood 
still, as if expecting some comment on his com- 
munication. ^20 

Gluck determined to say something at all 
events. "I hope your Majesty is very well," 
said Gluck. 

•' Listen ! " said the little man, deigning no ' 
reply to this polite inquiry. ^'lam the King of 625 
what you mortals call the Golden River. The 
shape you saw me in, was owing to the malice of 
a stronger king, from whose enchantments you 
have this instant freed me. What I have seen of 
you, and your conduct to your wicked brothers, eao 
renders me willing to serve you; therefore, attend ■ 
to what I tell you. Whoever shall climb to the 
top of that mountain from which you see the 
Golden River issue, and shall cast into the stream 
at its source three drops of holy water, for him, ess 
and for him only, the river shall turn to gold. 
But no one failing in his first, can succeed in a 
second attempt; and if any one shall cast unholy 
water into the river, it will overwhelm him, and 
he will become a black stone." So saying, theew 
King of the Golden River turned away and de- 
liberately walked into the center of the hottest 
flame of the furnace. His figure became red, 
white, transparent, dazzling — a blaze of intense 



38 



The King of the Golden River 



645 light — rose, trembled, and disappeared. The 
King of the Golden River had evaporated. 

'* Oh ! " cried poor Gluck, running to look up 
the chimney after him; '*Oh, dear, dear, dear me! 
My mug ! my mug ! my mug ! " 




CHAPTER III. 

HOW MR. HANS SET OFF ON AN EXPEDITION TO 

THE GOLDEN RIVER, AND HOW HE 

PROSPERED THEREIN. 

THE King of the Golden River had hardly 
made the extraordinary exit related in the ess 
last chapter, before Hans and Schwartz 
came roaring into the house, very savagely drunk. 
The discovery of the total loss of their last piece 
of plate had the effect of sobering them just 
enough to enable them to stand over Gluck, eeo 
beating him very steadily for a quarter of an 
hour; at the expiration of which period they 
dropped into a couple of chairs, and requested 
to know what he had got to say for himself. 
Gluck told them his story, of which, of course, ees 
they did not believe a word. They beat him 
again, till their arms were tired, and staggered 
to bed. In the morning, however, the steadiness 
with which he adhered to his story obtained him 
some degree of credence; the immediate conse-67o 
quence of which was, that the two brothers, after 
wrangling a long time on the knotty question, 
which of them should try his fortune first, drew 
their swords and began fighting. The noise of 
the fray alarmed the neighbors, who, finding 675 

lS9l 



4-0 The King of tJic Golden River 

they could not pacify the combatants, sent for 
the constable. 

Hans, on hearing this, contrived to escape, 
and hid himself ; but Schwartz was taken before 

680 the magistrate, fined for breaking the peace, and, 
having drunk out his last penny the evening 
before, was thrown into prison till he should 
pay. 

When Hans heard this, he was much delighted, 

685 and determined to set out immediately for the 
Golden River. How to get the holy water was 
the question. He went to the priest, but the 
priest could not give any holy water to so aban- 
doned a character. So Hans went to vespers in 

690 the evening for the first time in his life, and, 
under pretense of crossing himself, stole a cup- 
ful, and returned home in triumph. 

Next morning he got up before the sun rose, 
put the holy water into a strong flask, and two 

695 bottles of wine and some meat in a basket, slung 
them over his back, took his alpine staff in his 
hand, and set off for the mountains. 

On his way out of the town he had to pass the 
prison, and as he looked in at the windows, whom 

700 should he see but Schwartz himself peeping out 
of the bars, and looking very disconsolate. 

"Good morning, brother," said Hans; ''have 
you any message for the King of the Golden 
River?" 

705 Schwartz gnashed his teeth with rage, and 
shook the bars with all his strength ; but Hans 



Or, The Black Brothers ^/ 

only laughed at him, and advising- him to make 
himself comfortable till he came back again, 
shouldered his basket, shook the bottle of holy- 
water in Schwartz's face till it frothed again, 710 
and marched off in the highest spirits in the 
world. 

It was, indeed, a morning that might have 
made any one happy, even with no Golden River 
to seek for. Level lines of dewy mist lay 715 
stretched along the valley, out of which rose the 
massy mountains — their lower cliffs in pale 
gray shadow, hardly distinguishable from the 
floating vapor, but gradually ascending till they 
caught the sunlight, which ran in sharp touches 720 
of ruddy color along the angular crags, and 
pierced, in long level rays, through their fringes 
of spear-like pine. Far above, shot up red splin- 
tered masses of castellated rock, jagged and 
shivered into myriads of fantastic forms, with 725 
here and there a streak of sunlit snow, traced 
down their chasms like a line of forked light- 
ning ; and, far beyond, and far above all these, 
fainter than the morning cloud, but purer and 
changeless, slept, in the blue sky, the utmost 730 
peaks of the eternal snow. 

The Golden River, which sprang from one of 
the lower and snowless elevations, was now 
nearly in shadow ; all but the uppermost jets of 
spray, which rose like slow smoke above the un- 735 
dulating line of the cataract, and floated away in 
feeble wreaths upon the morning wind. 



/^2 The King of the Golden River 

On this object, and on this alone, Hans's eyes 
and thoughts were fixed ; forgetting the distance 

740 he had to traverse, he set off at an imprudent 
rate of walking, which greatly exhausted him be- 
fore he had scaled the first range of the green 
and low hills. He was, moreover, surprised, on 
surmounting them, to find that a large glacier, 

745 of whose existence, notwithstanding his previous 
knowledge of the mountains, he had been abso- 
lutely ignorant, lay between him and the source 
of the Golden River. He entered on it with the 
boldness of a practised mountaineer; yet he 

750 thought he had never traversed so strange or so 
dangerous a glacier in his life. The ice was ex- 
cessively slippery, and out of all its chasms came 
wild sounds of gushing water; not monotonous 
or low, but changeful and loud, rising occasion- 

755 ally into drifting passages of wild melody, then 
breaking off into short melancholy tones, or sud- 
den shrieks, resembling those of human voices in 
distress or pain. The ice was broken into thou- 
sands of confused shapes, but none, Hans thought, 

760 like the ordinary forms of splintered ice. There 
seemed a curious expression about all their out- 
lines — a perpetual resemblance to living features, 
distorted and scornful. Myriads of deceitful 
shadows, and lurid lights, played and floated 

765 about and through the pale blue pinnacles, daz- 
zling and confusing the sight of the traveler; 
while his ears grew dull and his head giddy with 
the constant gush and roar of the concealed 



Or, The Black Brothers 4.J 

waters. These painful circumstances increased 
upon him as he advanced ; the ice crashed and 770 
yawned into fresh chasms at his feet, tottering 
spires nodded around him, and fell thundering 
across his path; and though he had repeatedly 
faced these dangers on the most terrific glaciers, 
and in the wildest weather, it was with a new 775 
and oppressive feeling of panic terror that he 
leaped the last chasm, and flung himself, ex- 
hausted and shuddering, on the firm turf of the 
mountain. 

He had been compelled to abandon his basket 78o 
of food, which became a perilous encumbrance on 
the glacier, and had now no means of refreshing 
himself but by breaking off and eating some of the 
pieces of ice. This, however, relieved his thirst ; 
an hour's repose recruited his hardy frame, andTss 
with the indomitable spirit of avarice, he resumed 
his laborious journey. 

His way now lay straight up a ridge of bare 
red rocks, without a blade of grass to ease the foot, 
or a projecting angle to afford an inch of shade 790 
from the south sun. It was past noon, and the 
rays beat intensely upon the steep path, while the 
whole atmosphere was motionless, and penetrated 
with heat. Intense thirst was soon added to the 
bodily fatigue with which Hans was now afflicted ; 795 
glance after glance he cast on the flask of water 
which hung at his belt. '' Three drops are 
enough," at la^t thought he ; ''I may, at least, cool 
my lips with it." 



^^ The King of the Golden River 

800 He opened the flask, and was raising it to his 
lips, when his eye fell on an object lying on the 
rock beside him ; he thought it moved. It was a 
small dog, apparently in the last agony of death 
from thirst. Its tongue was out, its jaws dry, its 

805 limbs extended lifelessly, and a swarm of black 
ants were crawling about its lips and throat. Its 
eye moved to the bottle which Hans held in 
his hand. He raised it, drank, spurned the 
animal with his foot, and passed on. And he 

810 did not know how it was, but he thought that a 
strange shadow had suddenly come across the 
blue sky. 

The path became steeper and more rugged 
every moment ; and the high hill air, instead of 

815 refreshing him, seemed to throw his blood into 
a fever. The noise of the hill cataracts sounded 
like mockery in his ears; they were all distant, 
and his thirst increased every moment. Another 
hour passed, and he again looked down to the 

820 flask at his side ; it was half empty, but there was 
much more than three drops in it. He stopped 
to open it ; and again, as he did so, something 
moved in the path above him. It was a fair 
child, stretched nearly lifeless on the rock, its 

825 breast heaving with thirst, its eyes closed, and its 
lips parched and burning. Hans eyed it deliber- 
ately, drank, and passed on. And a dark gray 
cloud came over the sun, and long, snake-like 
shadows crept up along the mountain sides. Hans 

830 struggled on. The sun was sinking, but its descent 




'-'■Shuddering^ he hurled it into the center of the torrent : staggered^ 
shrieked^ and fell " 



/f6 The King of the Golden River 

seemed to bring no coolness ; the leaden weight 
of the dead air pressed upon his brow and heart, 
but the goal was near. He saw the cataract of 
the Golden River springing from the hillside, 

835 scarcely five hundred feet above him. He paused 
for a moment to breathe, and sprang on to com- 
plete his task. 

At this instant a faint cry fell on his ear. He 
turned, and saw a gray-haired old man extended 

840 on the rocks. His eyes were sunk, his features 

deadly pale, and gathered into an expression of 

despair. " Water ! " he stretched his arms to 

Hans, and cried feebly, "Water! I am dying." 

" I have none," replied Hans ; '* thou hast had 

845 thy share of life." He strode over the prostrate 
body, and darted on. And a flash of blue light- 
ning rose out of the East, shaped like a sword ; 
it shook thrice over the whole heaven, and left it 
dark with one heavy, impenetrable shade. The 

850 sun was setting ; it plunged toward the horizon 
like a red-hot ball. 

The roar of the Golden River rose on Hans's 
ear. He stood at the brink of tbe chasm through 
which it ran. Its waves were filled with the red 

855 glory of the sunset, they shook their crests like 
tongues of fire, and flashes of bloody light gleamed 
along their foam. Their sound came mightier 
and mightier on his senses ; his brain grew giddy 
with the prolonged thunder. Shuddering he drew 

860 the flask from his girdle, and hurled it into the 
centre of the torrent. As he did so, an icy chill 



Or, The Black Brothers 



47 



shot through his limbs : he staggered, shrieked, 
and fell. The waters closed over his cry. And 
the moaning of the river rose wildly into the 
night, as it gushed over 




CHAPTER IV. 

HOW MR. SCHWARTZ SET OFF ON AN EXPEDITION 

TO THE GOLDEN RIVER, AND HOW HE 

PROSPERED THEREIN. 

POOR little Gluck waited very anxiously alone 
in the house for Hans's return. Finding he 
did not come back, he was terribly fright- 
ened and went and told Schwartz in the prison, 

875 all that had happened. Then Schwartz was very 
much pleased, and said that Hans must certainly 
have been turned into a black stone, and he should 
have all the gold to himself. But Gluck was very 
sorry, and cried all night. When he got up in the 

880 morning there was no bread in the house, nor 
any money ; so Gluck went and hired himself to 
another goldsmith, and he worked so hard, and so 
neatly, and so long every day, that he soon got 
money enough together to pay his brother's fine, 

885 and he went and gave it all to Schwartz, and 
Schwartz got out of prison. Then Schwartz was 
quite pleased, and said he should have some of 
the gold of the river. But Gluck only begged 
he would go and see what had become of Hans. 

890 Now when Schwartz had heard that Hans had 
stolen the holy water, he thought to himself that 



Or, The Black Brothers 4.^ 

such a proceeding might not be considered alto- 
gether correct by the King of the Golden River, 
and determined to manage matters better. So 
he took some more of Gluck's money, and went 895 
to a bad priest, who gave him some holy water 
very readily for it. Then Schwartz was sure it 
was all quite right. So Schwartz got up early in 
the morning before the sun rose, and took some 
bread and wine, in a basket, and put his holyw 
water in a flask, and set off for the mountains. 
Like his brother, he was much surprised at the 
sight of the glacier, and had great difficulty in 
crossing it, even after leaving his basket behind 
him. The day was cloudless, but not bright ; 905 
there was a heavy purple haze hanging over the 
sky, and the hills looked lowering and gloomy. 
And as Schwartz climbed the steep rock path, 
the thirst came upon him, as it had upon his 
brother, until he lifted his flask to his lips to 910 
drink. Then he saw the fair child lying near 
him on the rocks, and it cried to him, and moaned 
for water. 

" Water, indeed," said Schwartz ; *' I haven't 
half enough for myself," and passed on. And as 915 
he went he thought the sunbeams grew more 
dim, and he saw a low bank of black cloud rising 
out of the West ; and, when he had climbed for 
another hour the thirst overcame him again, and 
he would have drunk. Then he saw the old man 920 
lying before him on the path, and heard him cry 
out for water. " Water, indeed," said Schwartz, 



JO The King of the Golden River 

*'I haven't half enough for myself," and on he 
went. 

925 Then again the light seemed to fade before 
his eyes, and he looked up, and, behold, a mist, 
of the color of blood, had come over the sun ; and 
the bank of black cloud had risen very high, and 
its edges were tossing and tumbling like the 

930 waves of the angry sea. And they cast long 
shadows, which flickered over Schwartz's path. 

Then Schwartz climbed for another hour, and 
again his thirst returned; and as he lifted his 
flask to his lips, he thought he saw his brother 

935 Hans lying exhausted on the path before him, and, 
as he gazed, the figure stretched its arms to him, 
and cried for water. " Ha, ha," laughed Schwartz, 
"are you there? remember the prison bars, my 
boy. Water, indeed! do you suppose I carried 

940 it all the way up here for yott ? " And he strode 
over the figure ; yet, as he passed, he thought he 
saw a strange expression of mockery about its 
lips. And, when he had gone a few yards far- 
ther, he looked back ; but the figure was not there. 

945 And a sudden horror came over Schwartz, 
he knew not why ; but the thirst for gold pre- 
vailed over his fear, and he rushed on. And the 
bank of black cloud rose to the zenith, and out 
of it came bursts of spiry lightning, and waves 

950 of darkness seemed to heave and float between 
their flashes over the whole heavens. And the 
sky where the sun was setting was all level, and 
like a lake of blood ; and a strong wind came out 




'He thought he saw his brother lying exhausted before him ' 



52 



The King of the Golden River 



of that sky, tearing its crimson cloud into frag"- 

955 ments, and scattering them far into the darkness. 

And when Schwartz stood by the brink of the 

Golden River, its waves were black, like thunder 

clouds, but their foam was like fire ; and the roar 

of the waters below, and the thunder above, met, 

960 as he cast the flask into the stream. And, as he 

did so, the lightning glared into his eyes, and the 

earth gave way beneath him, and the waters 

closed over his cry. And the moaning of the 

river rose wildly into the night, as it gushed 

965 over the 




CHAPTER V. 

HOW LITTLE GLUCK SET OFF ON AN EXPEDITION 
TO THE GOLDEN RIVER, AND HOW HE PROS- 
PERED THEREIN; WITH OTHER 
MATTERS OF INTEREST. 

WHEN Gluck found that Schwartz did not 
come back he wa.s very sorry, and did 
not know what to do. He had no money, 
and was obliged to go and hire himself again to 975 
the goldsmith, who worked him very hard, and 
gave him very little money. So, after a month 
or two, Gluck grew tired, and made up his mind 
to go and try his fortune with the Golden River. 
*'The little King looked very kind," thought he.oso 
" I don't think he will turn me into a black stone." 
So he went to the priest, and the priest gave him 
some holy water as soon as he asked for it. Then 
Gluck took some bread in his basket, and the 
bottle of water, and set off very early for the 935 
mountains. 

If the glacier had occasioned a great deal of 
fatigue to his brothers, it was twenty times worse 
for him, who was neither so strong nor so prac- 
tised on the mountains. He had several bad 990 
falls, lost his basket and bread, and was very much 
frightened at the strange noises under the ice. 

issl 



5^ The King of the Golden River 

He lay a long time to rest on the grass, after he 
had got over, and began to climb the hill just in 

995 the hottest part of the day. When he had climbed 
for an hour, he got dreadfully thirsty, and was 
going to drink like his brothers, when he saw an 
old man coming down the path above him, look- 
ing very feeble, and leaning on a staff. *' My 

loooson," said the old man, ** I am faint with thirst, 
give me some of that water." Then Gluck looked 
at him, and when he saw that he was pale and 
weary, he gave him the water ; " Only pray don't 
drink it all," said Gluck. But the old man drank 

1005 a great deal, and gave him back the bottle two- 
thirds empty. Then he bade him good speed, 
and Gluck went on again merrily. And the path 
became easier to his feet, and two or three blades 
of grass appeared upon it, and some grasshoppers 

1010 began singing on the bank beside it ; and Gluck 

thought he had never heard such merry singing. 

Then he went on for another hour, and the 

thirst increased on him so that he thought he 

should be forced to drink. But, as he raised 

1015 the flask, he saw a little child lying panting by 
the roadside, and it cried out piteously for water. 
Then Gluck struggled with himself, and deter- 
mined to bear the thirst a little longer; and 
he put the bottle to the child's lips, and it 

1020 drank it all but a few drops. Then it smiled on 
him, and got up and ran down the hill ; and Gluck 
looked after it, till it became as small as a little 
star, and then turned and began climbing again. 




^^And Gluck stopped and fooked at it^ and then at the Golden River ^ not 
five hundred yards above him " 



^6 The King of the Golden River 

And then there were all kinds of sweet flowers 

1025 growing on the rocks, bright green moss with 
pale pink starry flowers, and soft belled gentians, 
more blue than the sky at its deepest, and pure 
white transparent lilies. And crimson and purple 
butterflies darted hither and thither, and the sky 

1030 sent down such pure light, that Gluck had never 
felt so happy in his life. 

Yet, when he had climbed for another hour, 
his thirst became intolerable again; and, when 
he looked at his bottle, he saw that there were 

1035 only five or six drops left in it, and he could 
not venture to drink. And, as he was hanging 
the flask to his belt again, he saw a little dog 
lying on the rocks, gasping for breath — just as 
Hans had seen it on the day of his ascent. And 

1040 Gluck stopped and looked at it, and then at the 
Golden River, not five hundred yards above him ; 
and he thought of the dwarf's words, " that no one 
could succeed, except in his first attempt ; " and he 
tried to pass the dog, but it whined piteously, and 

1045 Gluck stopped again. '' Poor beastie," said Gluck, 
** it'll be dead when I come down again, if I don't 
help it." Then he looked closer and closer at it, 
and its eye turned on him so mournfully, that he 
could not stand it. " Confound the King and his 

1050 gold too," said Gluck; and he opened the flask, 
and poured all the water into the dog's mouth. 

The dog sprang up and stood on its hind legs. 
Its tail disappeared, its ears became long, longer, 
silky, golden; its nose became very red, its eyes 



Or, The Black Brothers 57 

became very twinkling ; in three seconds the dog 1055 
was gone, and before Gluck stood his old acquaint- 
ance, the King of the Golden River. 

" Thank you," said the monarch ; ** but don't be 
frightened, it's all right;" for Gluck showed 
manifest symptoms of consternation at this un-ioeo 
looked-for reply to his last observation. "Why 
didn't you come before," continued the dwarf, 
"instead of sending me those rascally brothers 
of yours, for me to have the trouble of turning 
into stones? Very hard stones they make too."io65 

"Oh dear me!" said Gluck, "have you really 
been so cruel?" 

" Cruel ! " said the dwarf : " they poured unholy 
water into my stream ; do you suppose I'm going 
to allow that ? " \m 

"Why," said Gluck, "I am sure, sir, — your 
Majesty, I mean, — they got the water out of the 
church font." 

"Very probably," replied the dwarf; "but," 
and his countenance grew stern as he spoke, " the 1075 
water which has been refused to the cry of the 
weary and dying, is unholy, though it had been 
blessed by every saint in heaven ; and the water 
which is found in the vessel of mercy is holy, 
though it had been defiled with corpses." loso 

So saying, the dwarf stooped and plucked a 
lily that grew at his feet. On its white leaves 
there hung three drops of clear dew. And the 
dwarf shook them into the flask which Gluck held 
in his hand. " Cast these into the river," he said, loss 



^8 The King of the Golden River 

" and descend on the other side of the mountains 

into the Treasure Valley. And so good speed." 

As he spoke, the figure of the dwarf became 

indistinct. The playing colors of his robe formed 

1090 themselves into a prismatic mist of dewy light : 
he stood for an instant veiled with them as with 
the belt of a broad rainbow. The colors grew 
faint, the mist rose into the air ; the monarch had 
evaporated. 

1095 And Gluck climbed to the brink of the Golden 
River, and its waves were as clear as crystal, and 
as brilliant as the sun. And, w^hen he cast the 
three drops of dew into the stream, there opened 
where they fell, a small circular whirlpool, into 

1100 which the waters descended with a musical noise. 

Gluck stood watching it for some time, very 

much disappointed, because not only the river 

was not turned into gold, but its waters seemed 

much diminished in quantity. Yet he obeyed his 

1105 friend the dwarf, and descended the other side of 
the mountains, towards the Treasure Valley ; and, 
as he went, he thought he heard the noise of 
water working its way under the ground. And, 
when he came in sight of the Treasure Valley, 

.1110 behold, a river, like the Golden River, was spring- 
ing from a new cleft of the rocks above it, and 
was flowing in innumerable streams among the 
dry heaps of red sand. 

And as Gluck gazed, fresh grass sprang beside 

1115 the new streams, and creeping plants grew, and 
climbed among the moistening soil. Young 




" The figure of the dwarf became indistinct^ and stood veiled as 
with a rainbow" 



6o The King of the Golden River 

flowers opened suddenly along the river sides, as 
stars leap out when twilight is deepening, and 
thickets of myrtle, and tendrils of vine, cast 

1120 lengthening shadows over the valley as they 
grew. And thus the Treasure Valley became a 
garden again, and the inheritance, which had 
been lost by cruelty, was regained by love. 

And Gluck went, and dwelt in the valley, and 

1125 the poor were never driven from his door ; so that 

his barns became full of corn, and his house of 

treasure. And, for him, the river had, according 

to the dwarf's promise, become a River of Gold. 

And, to this day, the inhabitants of the valley 

1130 point out the place where the three drops of holy 
dew were cast into the stream, and trace the 
course of the Golden River under the ground, 
until it emerges in the Treasure Valley. And at 
the top of the cataract of the Golden River, are 

1135 still to be seen two black stones, round which 
the waters howl mournfully every day at sunset ; 
and these stones are still called by the people of 
the valley 





A BIOGRAPHICAL 
SKETCH 




John Ruskin 

THE author of The King of the Golden River was 
one of the greatest men of the last century. 
He believed that noble art is praise of 
what the artist loves, and in this little fairy story, 
as in his long and learned books, he praises the 
beauty of our wonderful world, its waters, skies, 
and mountains, and he praises what he loved even 
more — the beauty of unselfishness. 

John Ruskin was born in London, February 
8, 1 8 19, His parents were Scotch, of Highland 
descent. His father, after a thorough schooling 
in Edinburgh, had gone to London and made his 
way from a humble clerkship to the position of a 
leading wine-merchant. This Mr. Ruskin, when 
he was well established in business and had, with 
a fine sense of honor, paid off old family debts, 
married a canny Scotch cousin and settled down 
with her to a quiet home life, which was bright- 
ened by an only child. 

The child was a strange, lonely little fellow. 
He had no playmates and few playthings, but he 
could entertain himself for hours at a time by 
tracing the squares in his nursery carpet and the 
patterns in wall paper or bedspread, examining 
the knots in the wood of the floor, counting the 
bricks in the houses across the way, watching the 

[6/] 



62 A Biographical Sketch 

filling of the water-cart in the street, and, best of 
all, making friends with the garden trees and 
learning their secrets. Without companions of 
his own age and without pets, the boy spent his 
affections on snowdrops and almond blossoms. 
From season to season he watched the ways of 
growing plants. He plucked flowers to pieces 
until he had seen just how petals and cup were 
fitted together and where the seeds were stored. 
He would stare for hours at the drifting clouds in 
the sky or the darting minnows in the rivulet. 
He was a lover of nature even in his babyhood. 
" The first thing I remember as an event in life," 
Ruskin has written, ''was being taken by my 
nurse to the brow of Friar's Crag, on Derwent- 
water. The intense joy, mingled with awe, that I 
had in looking through the mossy roots over the 
crag into the dark lake has associated itself more 
or less with all twining roots of trees ever since." 

When the boy was a yellow-haired three-year- 
old in frock and sash, his parents had his portrait 
painted. In reply to the artist, who good-humor- 
edly asked him what he would like to have for the 
background of his picture, the little Highlander 
promptly declared, '' Blue hills." 

After Ruskin had become a famous man, worn 
by labors and sorrows, his memory liked to dwell 
upon these early years, so that we have, in his 
own telling, many chapters from the history of 
that solitary child. 

" First," he wrote, *' I was taught to be obedient. 
That discipline began very early. One evening, 
— my mother being rather proud of this, told me 
the story often, — when I was yet in my nurse's 
arms, I wanted to touch the tea-urn, which was 
boiling merrily. It was an early taste for bronzes, 
I suppose, but I was resolute about it. My mother 



A Biographical Sketch 6j 

bid me keep my fingers back. I insisted on put- 
ting them forward. My nurse would have taken 
me away from the urn, but my mother said, ' Let 
him touch it. Nurse.' So I touched it, — and that 
was my first lesson in the meaning of the word 
Liberty. It was the first piece of Liberty I got, 
and the last which for some time I asked for. 

" Secondly, I was taught to be quiet. When I 
was a very little child, my parents not being rich, 
and my mother having to see to many things her- 
self, she used to shut me into a room upstairs, with 
some bits of wood and a bunch of keys, and say, 
'John, if you make a noise you shall be whipped.' 

*' To that piece of education I owe most of my 
powers of thinking; and, — more valuable to me 
still, — of amusing myself anywhere and with 
anything." 

Mrs. Ruskin, for all her strictness, was a de- 
voted mother, and indulged her son in a few sim- 
ple toys that would call out his own ingenuity, — 
a cart, a ball, building blocks, a dissected bridge. 
And there was always the garden, where, on 
pleasant days, the family took tea together '' un- 
der the white-heart cherry tree." In the evening 
small John had his own little recess, with a low 
writing-table before it, in the drawing room. 
Here he sat " as an idol in a niche," and busied 
himself with his childish printing and drawing, 
while his mother knitted and his father read 
aloud Scott's novels and Shakspere's plays, giving 
the boy a pure first taste of English literature. 

As he grew old enough for lessons, his mother, 
who hoped that he would be a clergyman, set 
aside the hours directly after breakfast for teach- 
ing him. The lessons consisted chiefly in reading 
the Bible through, from the beginning of Genesis 
to the end of Revelation, over and over and over. 



6^ A Biographical Sketch 

and in learning by heart selected portions. These 
comprised the Song of Moses (Exodus xv.), the 
Commandments (Exodus xx.), David's lament 
over Saul and Jonathan (II. Samuel i., 17-27), the 
dedication of Solomon's temple (I. Kings viii.), 
psalms of praise and trust (xxiii., xxxii., xc, xci., 
ciii., cxii., cxix., cxxxix.), chapters from Proverbs 
urging youth to seek after wisdom (ii., iii., viii., 
xii.), one of the great poems of Isaiah (Iviii.), the 
Sermon on the Mount (Matthew v., vi., vii.), Paul's 
defense before Agrippa (Acts xxvi.), Paul's teach- 
ings on charity and immortality (I. Corinthians 
xiii., XV.), James's counsel to pure life (James iv.), 
and the vision of the seven seals (Revelation v., 
vi.). All these chapters Ruskin, in his early child- 
hood, committed to memory, and apparently 
others, for he mentions Deuteronomy xxxii. as 
having cost him much pains. It was hard work, 
" long morning hours of toil, as regular as sun- 
rise," but it brought a great reward. The rich, 
poetical language of the Bible, with its haunting 
phrases and majestic images, all drilled, syllable 
by syllable, into the boy, made the man a mighty 
master of English prose, while the Hebrew earn- 
estness and passion for righteousness, and the 
Christian gospel of self-sacrifice, entered deeply 
into his character. These Bible readings with his 
mother- — continued until he went to Oxford — 
Ruskin counted in after life " the most precious 
and, on the whole, the one essential part " of his 
education. After his seventh year his mother 
added a Latin lesson to the Bible reading, but 
never gave him more to do than could be finished, 
with honest effort, by noon, when he was free to 
run out into the garden and watch a nest of ants 
or gather a heap of the mOwSt curious pebbles. 
The Ruskins had a delightful way of teaching 



A Biographical Sketch 6$ 

their boy geography. Every summer the wine- 
merchant, with his family, used to travel for 
orders through half the English counties, and 
sometimes into Scotland and Wales. The jour- 
neying was done in an old-fashioned chariot, 
whose four sliding windows, Ruskin has written, 
''formed one large moving oriel, out of which 
one saw the country round, to the full half of the 
horizon. My own prospect was more extended 
still, for my seat was the little box containing my 
clothes, strongly made, with a cushion on one 
end of it, set upright in front (and well forward), 
between my father and mother. I was thus not 
the least in their way, and my horizon of sight 
the widest possible. When no object of partic- 
ular interest presented itself, I trotted, keeping 
time with the postboy on my trunk-cushion for a 
saddle, and whipped my father's legs for horses ; 
at first theoretically only, with dexterous motion 
of wrist, but ultimately in a quite practical and 
efficient manner, my father having presented me 
with a silver-mounted postillion's whip." 

The yearly outing could not begin until after 
the tenth of May, Mr. Ruskin's birthday. This 
was the grand family festival, when little John 
was allowed, as a high privilege, to gather from 
a particular bush in the garden the gooseberries 
for his father's first gooseberry pie of the season. 
On these midsummer trips the boy learned not 
only something about the physical geography 
of the British Isles, but no small amount of Eng- 
lish history, art, and architecture. Ruskin once 
said, in the course of a lecture : ''Among the cir- 
cumstances of my early life which I count most 
helpful, and for which I look back with more 
than filial gratitude to my father's care, was his 
fixed habit of stopping with me, on his business 



66 A Biographical Sketch 

journeys, patiently at any country inn that was 
near a castle or an abbey until I had seen all the 
pictures in the castle, and explored, as he always 
found me willing enough to do, all the nooks of 
the cloister. In these more romantic expeditions, 
aided and inspired by Scott, and never weary of 
re-reading the stories of The Monastery, The Abbot, 
and The A ntiquary, I took an interest more deep 
than that of an ordinary child, and received im- 
pressions which guided and solemnized the whole 
subsequent tenor of my life." 

This father, successful business man though 
he was, cared for beautiful things, poetry, paint- 
ing, architecture, scenery. He encouraged his 
son to keep journals, sometimes in rhyme, on 
these trips, and to print or write out his notes 
carefully in gay-covered blank books, after they 
had returned home. He had the boy taught to 
draw, too, so that he could sketch bits of land- 
scape and old buildings. John was an industri- 
ous verse-maker, and his father expected him 
to become a famous poet. In the larger sense 
of the words, Ruskin fulfilled the hopes of both 
his mother and his father. He became a great 
preacher of righteousness, though not in pulpits, 
and wrote volumes of soul-stirring poetry, but not 
in verse. The poems of his childhood and youth 
are interesting now chiefly because they show 
his constant love of nature. In his very earliest 
verses, written from the ages of eight to four- 
teen, he praises the beauty of icicles, streams, 
waterfalls, clouds, moonlight, and, above all, 
mountains. 

" There is a thrill of strange delight 
That passes quivering o'er me, 

When blue hills rise upon the sight 
Like summer clouds before me." 



A Biographical Sketch 6y 

On his fourteenth birthday the boy received 
from one of his father's partners the gift of 
Rogers Italy. This is a volume of poetry de- 
scribing Italian scenes, exquisitely illustrated 
by Turner, an English artist, who, until Ruskin 
became his champion, was little appreciated. 

The following summer the family took their 
carriage-drive on the continent, through Flan- 
ders, Germany, Switzerland, northern Italy, and 
France. What his first view of the Alps meant 
to Ruskin he related, half a century later, in the 
story of his early life. They broke upon his 
sight "suddenly — behold — beyond. 

'' There was no thought in any of us for a mo- 
ment of their being clouds. They were clear as 
crystal, sharp on the pure horizon sky, and already 
tinged with rose by the sinking sun. Infinitely 
beyond all that we had ever thought or dreamed, 
— the seen walls of lost Eden could not have been 
more beautiful to us; nor more awful, round 
heaven, the walls of sacred Death 

''Thus, in perfect health of life and fire of 
heart, not wanting to be anything but the boy I 
was, not wanting to have anything more than I 
had ; knowing of sorrow only just so much as to 
make life serious to me, not enough to slacken in 
the least its sinews ; and with so much of science 
mixed with feeling as to make the sight of the 
Alps not only the revelation of the beauty of the 
earth, but the opening of the first page of its 
volume, — I went down that evening from the 
garden-terrace of Schaffhausen with my destiny 
fixed in all of it that was to be sacred and use- 
ful." 

In this boyhood life all that Ruskin afterward 
came to be and to accomplish had its roots. The 
necessary lessons in school and with private tutors 



68 A Biographical Sketch 

meant less to him than his own independent stud- 
ies. He read his classics faithfully and worked 
out his mathematics, but his heart was in the col- 
lecting of minerals, sketching, writing. ^ He was 
nearly eighteen when he entered upon his univer- 
sity course in the beautiful gray city of Oxford. 
He did not distinguish himself there except by a 
prize poem His university studies were not his 
chief interest. He cared more for his private 
lessons in water-color painting and for a series of 
articles on The Poetry of Architecture that he was 
writing for a magazine. He spent much time in 
picture galleries, especially before the richly- 
colored dream landscapes of Turner, of which his 
wealthy father would sometimes buy him one for 
a birthday or New Year's gift. Just before he 
came of age, illness broke off his Oxford course. 
Mr. and Mrs. Ruskin, in deep anxiety for their 
only son, took him abroad for a year and then 
placed him under a physician's care at an English 
health resort, Leamington. It was here that Rus- 
kin, an invalid youth of twenty-two, wrote The 
King of the Golden River to please a little Scotch 
girl, who afterward became his wife. 

By the following spring Ruskin was able to go 
back to Oxford for his examinations, which he 
dreaded, and passed. He took his degree and was 
ready for his life-work. This he promptly began 
with the first volume of Modern Painters, whose 
chief aim was to convince the British public that 
Turner, strange as his glowing canvases might 
seem, was faithful to the truth of nature, to her 
mists and seas and sunsets. The book aroused 
wide interest, and for twenty years Ruskin stood 
before the English-speaking world as a great art- 
critic. Modern Painters grew into a work of five 
volumes. It told its thousands of readers not 



A Biographical Sketch 6p 

only how to look at pictures, but how to see the 
beauty of the earth. It taught, said Ruskin him- 
self, '' the claim of all lower nature on the hearts 
of men ; of the rock, and wave, and herb, as a part 
of their necessary spirit life." There were two 
famous books on architecture, also, striving to 
show that noble building depends on noble, happy 
life. 

As the years went by and middle age was 
reached, Ruskin came to feel that even art was 
less important than human welfare. The hunger 
and dirt and ugliness in which many of England's 
poor had to live weighed upon his heart and con- 
science. He began to write books against money- 
making for money's sake. He wanted men to 
work together in business as friends, not against 
one another as rivals. He liked hand-work, not 
machine-work. He thought country life sweeter 
than city life, and he hated to see railroads and 
coal mines staining the beauty of English valleys. 
He wrote in stinging words, like an old Hebrew 
prophet, and the very people who had so admired 
his earlier volumes became angry and scornful. 
They said his ideas were mere whims and crotch- 
ets, though put in such splendid language. They 
called him "the crotcheteer with the tongue of 
gold." They bade him go back to writing about 
art and nature. But Ruskin could not forget the 
sorrows of men in the beauty of pictures and 
landscapes any more. He was honored with a 
high office, the professorship of fine arts in Oxford 
University, and yet it was while holding this posi- 
tion, and lecturing to enthusiastic throngs of un- 
dergraduates on sculpture and engraving, that 
Ruskin wrote, in the first number of his monthly 
pamphlet for working-men : 

** For my own part, I will put up with this state 



70 A Biographical Sketch 

of things, passively, not an hour longer. I am not 
an unselfish person, nor an evangelical one. I 
have no particular pleasure in doing good ; neither 
do I dislike doing it so much as to expect to be 
rewarded for it in another world. But I simply 
cannot paint, nor read, nor look at minerals, nor 
do anything else that I like, and the very light of 
the morning sky, when there is any — which is 
seldom, now-a-days, near London — has become 
hateful to me, because of the misery that I know 
of, and see signs of, where I know it not, which 
no imagination can interpret too bitterly. 

" Therefore, as I have said, I will endure it no 
longer quietly ; but henceforward, with any few or 
many who will help, do my poor best to abate 
this misery." 

He was as good as his word. He established a 
company whose members were known as Com- 
panions of St. George. These were to give one- 
tenth of their living to the common cause, and 
Ruskin led the way by deeding over something 
more than thirty thousand dollars from the fortune 
his father had left him, a fortune entirely spent, 
before his death, chiefly in efforts to help the 
world. The funds of St. George's Guild were to 
go toward buying farms, building mills, and open- 
ing schools, for the Companions of St. George 
dreamed the old, fair dream of making a little 
paradise on earth. In the end there was not 
much to show for all their self-denial and their 
labors, but the spirit of Ruskin's sublime attempt 
is still at work among us, prompting many a 
generous movement to aid the oppressed and to 
promote whatsoever things are pure and lovely 
and of good report. 

Ruskin died on January 20, 1900, leaving some 
fourscore volumes to repeat his message — to 



A Biographical Sketch 



71 



help those who have eyes, to see the beauty of 
the earth ; to help those who have ears, to hear 
the moaning of the poor. This Alpine story of 
The King of the Golden River, though one of the 
least of Ruskin's books, is full of his glorious 
nature-pictures, as bright as if they had come 
from Turner's brush. It breathes, too, Ruskin's 
indignation with selfish greed. It honors labor, 
self-sacrifice, and mercy. Little Gluck was worthy 
to become a Companion of St. George. 




I TRUST in the Living God, 
^ Father Almighty, Maker of 
Heaven and earth, and of all 
things and creatures, visible and 
invisible. I trust in the kindness 
of His law and the goodness of 
His work. And I will strive to 
love Him and to keep His law, 
and to see His work while I live. 

I TRUST in the nobleness of 
human nature — in the maj- 
esty of its faculties, the fullness 
of its mercy, and the joy of its 
love. And I will strive to love 
my neighbor as myself, and even 
when I cannot, I will act as if I 
did. 

I WILL labor, with such 
strength and opportunity as 
God gives me, for my own daily 
bread; and all that my hand finds 
to do, I will do it with my might. 

I WILL not deceive, nor cause to 
be deceived, any human be- 
ing, for my gain or pleasure ; nor 
hurt, nor cause to be hurt, any 
human being for my gain or 
pleasure; nor rob, nor cause to be 
robbed, any human being for my 
gain or pleasure. 

172] 



I WILL not kill nor hurt any 
living creature needlessly, 
nor destroy any beautiful thing ; 
but will strive to save and to 
comfort all gentle life, and guard 
and perfect all natural beauty 
upon the earth. 

m^ 

I WILL strive to raise my own 
body and soul daily into 
higher powers of duty and hap- 
piness; not in rivalship or con- 
tention with others, but for the 
help, delight, and honor of others, 
and for the joy and peace of my 
own life. 

T WILL obey all the laws of my 
1 country faithfully ; and the 
orders of its monarch, so far as 
such laws and commands are 
consistent with what I suppose 
to be the law of God ; and when 
they are not so, or seem in 
any wise to need change, I will 
oppose them loyally and deliber- 
ately — not with malicious, con- 
cealed or disorderly violence. 

ND with the same faithful- 
ness, and under the limits 
of the same obedience, which I 
render to the laws of my coun- 
try and the commands of its 
rulers, I will obey the laws of the 
Society called of St. George. 

[7J] 



A 




t^ hmmwrn 



AREADING LIST 



I. Books by Ruskin. 

Ruskin's books were not, the most of them, written 
for children ; but there are a few from which young 
readers may gather much, if not the whole. 

Sesame and Lilies is a small volume, made up of 
two lectures. The first, " Of Kings' Treasuries," is 
*' about books, and about the way we read them, and 
could, or should, read them." If Ruskin seems, in 
this essay, to speak severely of the wrong in the 
world, it is because he cared so greatly for the right. 
The second, "Of Queens' Gardens," is a book for 
girls, telling them in earnest, wonderful words how 
to be beautiful and make beauty wherever they go. 

The Ethics of the Dust. Ten talks with a 
group of merry schoolgirls about crystals. 

Preterit A. The story of Ruskin's early life. 
Some portions of the first volume, at least, would be 
interesting to children. 

II. About Mountains. 

Coleridge's " Hymn Before Sunrise in the Vale 

of Chamouni." 
Hans Christian Andersen's "The Ice Maiden." 
Irving's " Rip Van Winkle." 
Hawthorne's " The Great Stone Face." 
Hawthorne's " The Great Carbuncle." 
Tyndall's "The Glaciers of the Alps." 

Hunt down in books of Greek mythology the 

stories about Oreads. 
[74] 



75 A Reading List 

III. About Water Spirits. 

Fouqu^'s " Undine." 

Matthew Arnold's " The Forsaken Merman." 

Matthew Arnold's " The Neckan." 

Kingsley's "Water Babies." 

Coleridge's " The Ancient Mariner." 

Hunt down in books of Greek mythology the 
stories about Neptune, the Tritons, Proteus, 
the Sirens. 

IV. About Wind Spirits. 

Macdonald's "At the Back of the North Wind." 
Longfellow's " Hiawatha," Chapter II. " The Four 

Winds." 
Hans Christian Andersen's "The Story of the 

Wind." 

Hunt down in books of Greek mythology the 
stories about Boreas, ^olus, and Hermes, or, 
as the Romans called him, Mercury. 



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